People amaze me. Not like in the Doug Henning magic sort of way. Like in the, “I can’t believe you just did that” way.

I wanted to write a poem, a ballad or something to commemorate what I’ve witnessed from human kind. But I’m not talented that way. So I’m going to write a blog post, riddled with expletives, that will express my feelings.

Yesterday I witnessed a woman walking her very large dog. Probably some Lab, Great Dane, Pitbull mix. She was walking along our main road that runs through town. I was driving in my car. I was stopped at a stop light, she and her dog stop and her dog took a squat. And then I noticed. She has no poop bags.

I sat in my car at the light and watched her. She let her dog proceed to do its business, take a shit, she just stood there, and then walked along her way. Big dogs = big poop. We know this to be true. And I’m thinking, what is SHE thinking that makes her dog poop so special to decorate the grass along the sidewalk?

I have a small dog. I carry poop bags. Nobody wants to see dog poop on the ground. Fellow dog owners, and non dog lovers combined. Nobody. So what makes this dog’s poop so special? Does this shit not smell? Is this magic feces that will plant magic beans that will produce a giant tree that leads to a castle in the sky?

Had I not been two rows over and several cars ahead, I would have yelled out my window, “Scoop the poop!”

No wonder people who don’t like dogs don’t like dog owners. Imagine if some entitled parent let their child just take a dump in the middle of your lawn. Or next to the sidewalk on a main street? How would you feel? Exactly!

But it’s the same with dogs. Your dog is your baby, or family member, great. Sure, whatever. But why does it always have to be big dogs that don’t get scooped after. Yeah, I would hate carrying a sack of big dog shit too when I walk my big dog. But that’s your problem, not mine.

Feces is gross. It goes in the groundwater, the drain water, people can step in it. You get it.

In my county, if you don’t exhibit poop scoop materials, you can get cited. This gets argued because people say they can choose what they scoop with. What if they want to pick it up with their hand, or their hat? Sounds stupid, but it’s the argument from folks who have been cited, so they think the law is dumb. I say, let the officer just watch and wait, and if people like this woman walk away from the steaming pile o’ crap their beloved pet just left, that’s when you slap them with a ticket.

I wish this woman had picked up her dog’s poop with her Lululemon jacket.

Sorry for such a gross post. But people need to not be so self entitled when it comes to their dog’s shit.

What is going on people? There’s a surprisingly large growing trend I’ve seen of women wearing beige pants. Not chinos. Chinos are cute and from J Crew and make you look like you’re hanging out in the Hamptons. I’m talking about beige leggings, jeggings, or any pants that are remotely clingy to the body.

Why would you wear pants that look like you’re not wearing pants at all?

2. It’s flesh colored and tight, so it kinda looks like you’re not wearing pants.

3. Even if you’re really skinny, it looks like you’re wearing a shirt, but forgot your pants.

4. When people see you in line at the grocery store, and they forgot their glasses that day, they won’t be able to see the fact that you are wearing pants, but it looks like you’re not wearing pants.

5. If you wear underwear underneath them, we will see the underwear lines and it will look like you are wearing flesh colored underwear, but no pants.

6. If you’re NOT wearing underwear underneath them, we will see your butt crack through the fabric and it will look like you’re not wearing pants.

7. If you’re slightly overweight, it’s just not good and will look like you’re not wearing pants.

8. If you’re just sort of normal weight but have cellulite, you will see the cellulite through the fabric and people will wonder why you have fabric cellulite and why wouldn’t you wear pants to cover that up.

9. Even if you’re a black person wearing beige leggings, or a white person wearing beige leggings, it just kinda looks like flesh and people think you aren’t wearing pants.

10. Unless you’re on a runway or in a catalog, there is no business for you to wear beige leggings. Even white is better because then we know you’re wearing pants.

There you have it. Did I mention that when you wear beige leggings, IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE NOT WEARING PANTS!

I think the further into marriage and kids you delve, the more you realize how much you like to be alone. Or is that just me?

I love my kids, I love my husband. Blah blah blah. You know this to be true. But come on. I love being alone. I’m the Greta Garbo of my peers. Leave me alone to bask in the glow of the reality TV show from my flat screen. Let me nap with the dog on the couch. Let me go poop by myself and change my maxi pad without interruption.

So when McSweetie had a business trip this week, I felt more sense of me time than just when he’s at work. Why? Maybe because after the kids go to bed, I rule the family room and the remote. Okay, I rule the remote most nights anyway. BUT. I got to sit around, pass gas, drink wine and watch all the Lifetime movies a girl could want. And they were holiday Lifetime movies. Even better.

So hubs comes home in the evening from the airport, kids are happy to see him, yada yada, and I’m moaning on the couch before it’s time to tuck in the boy. I’ve heated up the hot pad twice and stuffed it in my pajama pants. This my friends, is a clear signal that Aunt Flo has come to town and she’s brought her suitcase. Did McSweetie notice this? Not so much. He asks what’s wrong. I mouth ‘cramps’ and give that all knowing look like, ‘poor me, I has armageddon uterus.’ What does he do? He gives me the exasperated look like, ‘didn’t you just have your period’, and says to me “that’s not what I was expecting.”

I stayed quiet, popped some Aleve and reheated my heat pad. I waited for him to fall asleep on the couch while I concocted this entire speech in my head.

Here goes:

“THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING? REALLY? Yeah, well, newsflash bucko, it’s been 25 days since the last one. I’m sorry I wasn’t greeting you at the door wearing nothing but a trench coat and had the kiddos already tucked in bed sleeping soundly so we could have wild monkey sex on the dining room table. Which if you hadn’t noticed already was cleared off of its crap from the last several months.

Yeah, and another thing. You probably thought, ‘oh bummer, looks like the wifey isn’t up for some lovin’ tonight. Whoa is me, I won’t get some.’ But did you ever think- ‘Awww, poor thing. Look at her. She’s done all the chores and even scrubbed the base boards (I did actually, can you believe it?!) and she has an achy uterus and feels poorly.’

But did you think that? Hmm, did you?? NO. Of course you didn’t.

You don’t care that the pain I feel in my baby box slightly resembles that of the first few hours of labor. Where my endometrial lining is screaming at me and I have pain spasms all the way down my butt. Yeah. So there.

Don’t mind me. I just dropped off your dry cleaning, kept the children alive, washed the sheets, scrubbed the base boards (Did I mention I scrubbed the baseboards?) and cleaned up some crap from forever ago, and am sitting here being miserable in my female-ness that I have NO CONTROL over!

Okay, not really. But can I just rant for a bit? Please? I’ve been really good lately all positive and shit. But sometimes, I just got to let it out. Here goes-

People who bring their dogs with them on a summer day in the car and leave them in the parking lot. I don’t care if you crack the windows. I don’t care if it’s cloudy. It’s summer. The car gets hot. YOU sit in a parked car and see how it feels. Just leave them at home. Okay?

Here’s a great little chart of how the temperature changes in a parked car during the summer.

Folks who don’t tell their kids that they are being little shits. Now I know that there’s people out there that are real douchecanoes and are mean to their kids. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about parents that just don’t tell their kids to either shut the fuck up, sit still, or keep your goddamn hands to yourself! Don’t let your little monster crinkle their Cheetos bag during a live play (yeah, some kid did this during Emma’s show this weekend), don’t let your spawn splash at the pool so much that folks sitting on deck chairs are getting wet, don’t let your kid pee on the grass at the 4th of July fireworks display next to our lawn chairs. Really. This happened. And out of ten grown-ups, not a one in that group saw this kid drop trou and whip out his wee-wee to pee on the grass. No, I didn’t say anything. Whatevs. But if that was MY kid, I would’ve have used that moment as a learning tool ( I say this in my best Julie Andrews voice).

Public urination is only funny in the movies. Sort of.

People who go out in public looking like absolute shit. When you see the dude on his bike, with his hat sideways, looking all gangsta, but wearing alligator pajama bottoms, you seriously scratch your head and think, WTF?

This is the only way I want to see pajama bottoms in public.

Drivers texting not looking at the road. Yeah- I’m talking to YOU and YOU and YOU… anyone else? I see moms, teenagers, men, EVERYONE, weaving in and out of their lane, driving under the speed limit. Just fucking drive okay? Especially on the freeway. Sure I use my phone to navigate. I check updates in the car- at stop lights! Not when I’m turning the corner!!

And last but not least- rape jokes. Yeah, that’s what I said. Rape jokes. Daniel Tosh is funny, but not when he gets pissed at a heckler and asks the audience if it would be funny if she was raped by like ‘5 guys’. Huh, gee Tosh, who’s the douche now? Daily Beast article Tosh’s rape joke, NOT FUNNY. This goes along with you don’t joke about children being molested or babies being harmed. I remember watching the auditions of Last Comic Standing on NBC and a wanna-be comic had in their routine something about kicking a baby. The judges just cut them off right there and were like, ‘dude, you don’t joke about shit like that. You’re done.’

I’m feeling a little honeybadgerish now. Or stabby. Or just downright bitchy.

My apologies. If you don’t like swear words, rants, or any references to PMS, then stop reading. Or if you are married to me, you can stop reading also.

Yes, hormones can do a number on us all. Why even men can be total dicks if they have too much testosterone. Think of steroids. Dickwads.

Now there’s estrogen. Good lord, how much of this stuff do we need coursing through us? Well, enough I guess to keep us from growing facial hair and large Adam’s apples. But geeze. Sometimes I would just love to be some asexual being crawling along the ocean floor.

Or a honey badger. I think a honey badger doesn’t know the difference between a good day, and a PMS day. They just don’t give a shit.

Namaste Mutha Fuckahs!

Yesterday I got all mad at the hubs for leaving dishes in the sink and dishwasher over the entire weekend I left him alone and took the kids to the beach. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so mad if going to the ‘beach’ didn’t require a 4 hour drive in the pouring rain and a weekend of my two kids bickering over what DVD they get to watch in what bedroom. AND, getting to cook and clean just like at home. Not that I am not grateful for our wonderful friends having us over to their family beach house. But there wasn’t room service, laundry service or any nannies. I did it to give the hubs a break. Not make MORE work for me.

Okay, I’m over it. It’s fine. He’s sorry. I’m sorry.

My apologies for this ridiculous, useless blog post. Unless of course, you are feeling stabby too and maybe this helped you from actually stabbing someone, or something.

Stolen from the Bloggess' Zazzle store. Get some. It might cheer you up.

We went as a family to see Arthur Christmas this past weekend. Mind you, we shelled out the extra bucks for 3D. Not for the experience, just because it was the only showing available that worked for us.

I always honor the no phone/texting/ in the theaters rule. Even my husband, and Emma turn their phones off. We enjoy the movie. Heck, we paid enough for it!

There’s this family in front of us, and their child is on the iPad playing games! During the movie! IT’S a FRICKIN’ KIDS MOVIE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

Seriously? Your child is that bored with the 3D experience of a superbly animated children’s movie, they need to play Angry Birds on your iPad?

Really?

Then, when it’s clear the movie is over, but not over, over, like with credits and all. Just you can tell things are finishing but the characters are still talking, the family next to us gets us to leave. Huh, you don’t want to see the end? You don’t want to see how Christmas is saved and all is well??

Are we that impatient and desensitized? I’m sorry, I just wish things were enjoyed more, respected, you know- stop and smell the roses kind of thing.

Each of us parents our children as we see fit. Who am I to judge? Maybe your child can’t sit still, maybe YOU’RE bored. But there’s something missing with this generation of parenting and the one we had as kids, the way our parents raised us. Or at least how I was raised. I didn’t have a choice. I sat still for school, church, movies, theater… There were no handheld electronics, no rule bending. But I will not pontificate on the deficiencies of what is today. Just merely bring it up as food for thought.

We went as a family to see Arthur Christmas this past weekend. Mind you, we shelled out the extra bucks for 3D. Not for the experience, just because it was the only showing available that worked for us.

I always honor the no phone/texting/ in the theaters rule. Even my husband, and Emma turn their phones off. We enjoy the movie. Heck, we paid enough for it!

There’s this family in front of us, and their child is on the iPad playing games! During the movie! IT’S a FRICKIN’ KIDS MOVIE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

Seriously? Your child is that bored with the 3D experience of a superbly animated children’s movie, they need to play Angry Birds on your iPad?

Really?

Then, when it’s clear the movie is over, but not over, over, like with credits and all. Just you can tell things are finishing but the characters are still talking, the family next to us gets us to leave. Huh, you don’t want to see the end? You don’t want to see how Christmas is saved and all is well??

Are we that impatient and desensitized? I’m sorry, I just wish things were enjoyed more, respected, you know- stop and smell the roses kind of thing.

Each of us parents our children as we see fit. Who am I to judge? Maybe your child can’t sit still, maybe YOU’RE bored. But there’s something missing with this generation of parenting and the one we had as kids, the way our parents raised us. Or at least how I was raised. I didn’t have a choice. I sat still for school, church, movies, theater… There were no handheld electronics, no rule bending. But I will not pontificate on the deficiencies of what is today. Just merely bring it up as food for thought.